Get My Kicks From Your Eleventh Hour
by tess the magic dragon
Summary: Airwaves beam from the light on the tower; get my kicks from your eleventh hour; won't you gimme some more riot on the radio?
1. Light Up The Sky

"Why are we doing this again?" Layne asked, flicking her eerily dark nails against the bass guitar Danny Robbins—we call him Vader—was practicing on. "We know we're good. We don't have to tell the world we are." She rolled her green eyes, which matched the green hair streak that was behind her left ear.

"Because." I waited until our entire band was looking at me. "Because if they think we're good, then we'll feel better about ourselves?"

Chris Plovert, the drummer, snorted. "You just want _Derrick_ to see you play." He twirled one of the two drumsticks in his right hand as he smirked at me.

"Oh, please. You're the one who was begging _Claire Lyons_ to watch us play," I retorted. Layne—she's the keyboardist—high-fived me. None of us like Claire Lyons or that stupid group she calls the Pretty Committee. Claire with her obviously bleached blonde hair and blue eyes. The one with the acting contract.

I despise her.

"The House of Blues would like to welcome a new band. Give it up for Crack Dominoes!" I cringed at the sound of the name Layne and I had chosen for our band. We chose it three years ago, when we were dumb 8th graders.

Layne and I had been best friends all our lives. Her mom and my mom had met in college, and had been best friends ever since. You could say that we've been glommed together, but I don't mind. Layne doesn't either.

That's what best friends are for.

We _used_ to be friends with Kristen Gregory, one of Claire's friends, back in the days when our moms signed us up for AYSO. Kristen was our best player, and she was the most supportive too. She wouldn't criticize anyone's skills.

Unlike now.

I met Vader in the fifth grade when I started going to guitar lessons. We both go to Westchester Guitar school—I play electric guitar, he plays bass. Vader then introduced Layne and I to Plovert, one of his friends.

Thus, Crack Dominoes was born.

I followed Layne, Plovert, and Vader onstage and stood in front of the microphone, taking my position as lead guitarist and vocals. "Hey, everyone," I greeted the cheering crowd. "We're gonna start the show with Yellowcard's song Light Up The Sky." I pulled my guitar pick out of the strings and began playing the opening chords.

"You're making a choice to live like this," I sang to the crowd, not caring if my voice cracked. Hopefully it wouldn't. "And all of the noise, I am silence. We already know how it ends tonight. You run in the dark through a firefight. And I would explode just to save your life. Yeah, I would explode." I grinned at Layne as the chorus came up.

"Let me light up the sky, light it up for you." The crowd started to clap to the music.

"Let me tell you why I would die for you." I began to pick out faces in the crowd—my mom's, my neighbor's, my guitar teacher's, and Claire. Derrick Harrington—yeah, that Derrick—had his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Claire didn't seem to be paying attention to the music. In fact, she looked bored.

Unbelievable.

-:-

The green room is probably the greatest room in the world. Except for the fact that it's more of an orange, not a green. But that's just what I think.

"So." Plovert twirled his drumsticks—he's never without them—and sat on Layne's lap, who struggled to push him off. "That was a pretty good crowd tonight. The ladies loved me."

"Yeah, okay," I scoffed.

"Whatever, you're just jellin'," Plovert raspberry-ed me and I rolled my eyes.

"So, when do you think will be our next gig?" Layne flicked off a stray piece of dry black nail polish.

I shrugged. "Who knows?"

"I'm gonna try to get us a gig at Karma," Plovert said evenly, tapping his fingers on the rough upholstery of the green room couch.

I almost choked on my grape Bubbilicious. "You lie," I managed to choke out.

"Yellowcard couldn't get a gig there," Layne challenged.

"I have my connections," Plovert waved his finger mysteriously around his cell phone.

"Oh yeah? Like what?" Vader came in out of nowhere.

"Where were you?" I poked his Volcom hoodie.

"Bathroom," Vader stated before sitting on me.

"Get off," I giggled. Sure, Vader's saliva capacity was of a whale, but he was cute. The hazel speckles in his brown eyes were squeal-worthy and he always smelled like Axe. "I mean it. Now."

Vader grinned at me and leaned toward me, as if he were about to kiss me. Instead, he whispered, "Is it your time of month, Mass?"

This time, I pushed him off. "It's not, you big _perv_!" I screamed from the top of my lungs. Layne cracked up and almost snorted out the Dr. Pepper she had been sloshing down for the past five minutes. "Gosh darn you, Danny Robbins."

Vader's left eye twitched as he mouthed the words, "You'll pay." He dived onto me and started to pull at the purple hair streak that started at my right ear, much like Layne's green streak. I giggled as he started to tickle-fight me.

Plovert was the first to stop staring at the two of us. He cleared his throat. "Let's keep this PG, alright kiddies?" He elbowed Layne, who just shoved him away.

I'm seriously waiting for those two to get together.

"Massie, sweetie?" My mom's blonde head popped into the green room, followed by my dad's bald patch and Brendon, my 9-year-old brother. I immediately jumped away from Vader, who tore himself away from me. "It's 10:03. We need to leave now, honey."

I scrunched my lips to the side and sighed. "Really?"

"Yes, so say bye to your friends. The car is in Parking Lot 2, around the middle. Be there in 10," she said before leaving.

"Can I have your autograph?" Brendon staggered towards Plovert.

"Brendon, go," I hissed.

"Pooface," he barked before scurrying out the door.

I crossed my arms. "Darn you, Layne. With your 11:30 curfew and your mom not having a care in the world."

Layne shrugged. "See you tomorrow. I need more hair paint. Plus if I go another day without buying that belt from Hot Topic, I'll rip my hair out," she joked.

"Mmkay. Peace out." I did a quick peace sign.

"Bye," Plovert waved before diving on Layne.

Vader threw a green eraser at my head and smirked. "Bye Massie."

**(AN: Yes, I happen to be fascinated with Light Up The Sky xD But I like Panic at the Disco better than Yellowcard. Haha. And I only like Massie when she isn't PC-ish. Haha. I know, I'm weird :D**

**Yes, Vader is back from wherever the hell he disappeared to. Lol.**

**Thanks to Aly for helping me : I co-wrote LSAG :D WOOOT. Go read it. Now. Aly is like, the best writer ever :**

**Rate & Review, perty please****)**


	2. But It's Better If You Do

"School's dreadful," Layne groaned as we walked through the halls of Westchester High School, looking for the guys. "Mrs. Peterson gave us homework over the weekend, and I _just_ finished it before you came." She rubbed her dark-with-lack-of-sleep eyes and staggered toward her locker. I closed my eyes and kept walking.

"Watch it," a stern, yet friendly voice commanded. My eyes fluttered open. I'd just bumped into Derrick Harrington. _Claire_'s Derrick.

Oh shit.

"I'm so sorry," I said, trying hard to keep my voice from cracking. "Really. I swear. I'll even dunk my head in a toilet just to prove how sorry I am." _Shit, that sounded weird_.

Derrick looked amused and freaked out. "Uh, that's okay." He stuck his hand out. I stared at it. It was big, in the guy sort of way. "I'm Derrick." His voice was startlingly deeper than Vader's and Plovert's combined. Then I realized I was supposed to _shake _his hand.

"Of course you are. Everyone knows you. Derrick Harrington, the great soccer player." _Stop it_. _You'll scare him off_. "You're going out with Claire, right? Isn't she a bi—brilliant person? And her hair is so blonde." _Shut up, Massie_.

"Uh, yeah. Very blonde," Derrick chuckled. My amber eyes met his warm brown eyes, framed by a fan of golden blonde lashes. Those same eyes that made every girl want him. Besides his six-pack, amazing legs and amazing soccer skills, of course.

"I'm Massie." I smiled awkwardly.

"Cool name."

"Ha, thanks. Don't we have homeroom together?" I said shyly.

"Yeah, the homework was killer this week," Derrick's voice dripped with disgusted-ness.

All I could do was nod. Then I noticed that Layne had moved from her locker to next to me, looking aggravated and tapping her DC shoe-clad foot.

"Are you done drooling over him?" Layne asked a little too loudly. My cheeks burned, which meant I was red as a beet.

"_Layne_." I glared at my best friend. "Shut up."

"Whatever. Mr. Hughes will kill me if I'm late to class again. Bye," Layne muttered flatly.

"Bye," I mumbled and turned my attention back to Derrick. But a certain blonde's arm was around his waist.

"What were you doing with this LBR, sweetie?" Claire cooed, her skye-blue eyes locking onto mine.

"Nothing." Derrick wrapped his arm around Claire's shoulders and turned her away from me. "She was just…there."

Claire's innocent—although it was probably _far_ from it—smile grew as mine vanished. _What an ass_, I thought, shaking off any memory of the conversation I'd just had with Derrick. If I was nothing to _him_, he was nothing to _me_. "I'm going to class, sweetie," Claire said to him as she pecked his cheek and sauntered down the hall. Derrick began to follow her, but stopped.

"See ya later, Massie," he called to me before grinning that slow, sexy grin of his and walking to class.

"Bye," I croaked before turning to my locker. Layne was across the hall, listening to Plovert's iPod and watching as he and Vader argued over which instrument was better—drums or guitar.

Layne turned to me. "Do you _wuv _him?" she asked, nodding at Derrick's butt—he was far away, but still.

"Shut up!" I said, playfully smacking her arm. "And I don't."

Layne shrugged. "Whatever," she sighed, which was what Layne always said whenever she didn't believe someone.

"Layne. I'm serious. I don't like Derrick. I mean, he's with Claire, you know?" I put on my most convincing smile. Layne shrugged.

"_Whatever_."

I sighed. It was no use. "Come on, let's get to class."

We fortunately got to our seats -in the back row- right before the bell rang.

"Nice you could finally join us," Mr. Myer sneered. He was known as the meanest Pre-Calculus teacher on campus, but that certainly didn't stop me, or Layne, from talking back to him.

"Sorry, Mr. M. Layne had to stop by at the bathroom, she probably saw your loafers," I said innocently. Fire burned in Mr. Myer's dull, green eyes.

"Do not talk back to a teacher, Miss Block."

"I just did." The class "oo-ed" immaturely while Layne was cracking up.

"One more quip and you're outta here," Mr. Myer fiercely pointed to the door.

I opened my mouth to say something, but Layne jabbed my arm. I realized that if I got a week of detention my parents would either…

ground me for the next month or

ban me from playing at our next gig.

I closed my mouth and sank into my seat, pulling my black iPod nano (first generation!) out of my pocket and playing _Medicine Man_ by the Hush Sound.

"Now, class. Open your textbooks to page 52..."

-:-

I should probably explain the Pretty Committee. They're basically this group of girls who think they're the prettiest—mind-boggling, right?—most popular girls on campus. They're lead by Claire Lyons, AKA the Blonde Witch. She's supposedly famous, but she's only been in one movie.

Her "beta"—although I don't think they're even that great of friends—is Alicia Rivera, who is on the cross-country team, but doesn't run. She's also a dancer, and Plovert thinks she's the "hottest girl. Ever."

Then there's Dylan Marvil, daughter of the uber famous Merri-Lee Marvil. We—Layne and I—are trying to book a gig on her show, _The Daily Grind_.

Lastly is Kristen Gregory, the smart one who plays soccer.

But it's just Claire that I hate. The others aren't _too_ bad. I mean, Dylan and Alicia brag a lot, but Kristen likes to help me with homework. You know, since I'm pretty much failing Pre-Calc with my lack of math skills. And the fact that Mr. Myner PMS's all the time.

**Superxlayne: **ur gonna be so dead

**Superxlayne: **when claire finds out about u & derrick, i mean

I stared at my computer. _Thanks for your lovely assumptions, Layne_. I cracked my knuckles and began typing.

**Blockparty007: **there's nothing 2 find out about

**Blockparty007: **der

**Superxayne: **w/e

Of _course_ Layne wouldn't believe me. She's had it in her head since the 6th grade that I like Derrick. Which I _don't_. Even Plovert believes her, but I think it's because the two—Layne and Plovert, I mean—are practically soul mates.

**One new message from soccerboiD.**

_Who the hell is that?_ I thought before clicking the message.

**soccerboiD: **hey massie its derrick

**Blockparty007: **uh hey :D

**Blockparty007: **wuts up?

**soccerboiD: **nothin really.

**soccerboiD: **wanna go to a party with me?

Do guys with girlfriends normally say that? No.

**Blockparty007: **whos going?

**soccerboiD: **the guys & few others.

**soccerboiD: **not claire.

Um, okay. Thanks for the update, Derrick. No, really. Thanks.

**Blockparty007: **k (:

**soccerboiD: **k, ill talk to you tomoro. (: ily bye

_soccerboiD has signed off_.

My hands jerked away from the keyboard as I reread his last message for the fiftieth time. Do guys with girlfriends ask their female friends to go to a party—which said guy is not taking his girlfriend to—and then tell the female friend "ily"?

Hell yeah.

**(AN: Thanks to Aly and Jackie (alyparker407 and aly's munchkin, respectively) for helping write the middle part and then LEAVING me to finish on my own. Ily nh :D Yay, a PATD title! Hehe.**

**As you can see, I gave them cooler sn's. Because Blockparty007 sounds cooler than Massiekur. Haha.**

**R&R, puh-lease -- ha, clique talk)**


	3. Risky Business

**soccerboiD:** k, ill talk to you tomoro. (: ily bye

_soccerboiD has signed off._

Claire Lyons tapped her aubergine nails against her straight-from-the-Ethan Allen-catalog desk and glared at the screen. How could she have been so stupid? And how could that Massie chick be even _stupider_? "Uh-licia!" she shouted out, swiveling around in her chair. "Why the hell did you tell me to say 'ily'? Guys do _nawt_ say that to people." Her left eye twitched.

"Suh-orry!" Alicia Rivera crossed her tanned arms over her garnet silk chiffon Chloe top. "Josh _always_ says 'ily' to me, so I thought…"

Claire's obnoxious cackle cut Alicia off. "You _thought_? Mark the time and day, Alicia Rivera used her brain." She threw back her head and laughed harder, her blonde hair cascading down her back.

The others—Kristen Gregory and Dylan Marvil—sat awkwardly on the pink bean bag chairs near Claire's bookshelf. "I'm hungry," Dylan grumbled, as if trying to excuse herself from the room.

"Ehmagawd, no way!" Claire rolled her sky blue eyes and glared at Dylan. "When are you _nawt_ hungry, Dyl?"

Kristen shot a worried glance at Alicia and Dylan before popping up and mumbling something about soccer practice. She ran out of the room before Claire could stop her.

Claire sighed, but only on the inside. Why were her friends so afraid of her? Hullo, she was their _alpha_. She had a right to be catty to them, didn't she? "Next time we try to trick that guitar-playing bitch, _Kuh-risten_ is going to help me. At least she knows the difference between guys and girls."

Dylan shifted in her seat and glanced at Alicia, who was biting her pinky nail. "Alicia, wanna get some, um, Pellegrino?" She didn't wait for a response, and simply dragged Alicia out the door.

"Get me a root beer, bitches!" Claire shouted out before her bedroom door slammed. She rolled her eyes again and signed on AIM—her's, this time.

**Éclairebabe: **heyy

**soccerboiD: **hey.

**soccerboiD: **sup?

**Éclairebabe: **lets have a party tomorrow.

**Éclairebabe: **at Lucky Strike.

**soccerboiD: **im kinda busy…

**Éclairebabe: **we could have some funnnn in the photo booth ;)

_Slut_, a small voice shouted in Claire's mind. _What the hell is wrong with you? _Claire shook her head. She had to be strong. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Not that she was desperate. Or was she? No, most definitely not. Right?

_Wrong_.

**soccerboiD:** idk claire...um..

**Éclairebabe**: nuthin is goin on with u and that lbr, rite??

**soccerboiD:** NO! y would there be? but w/e i cant go anyway, i have to help my mom

Claire sighed.

**Éclairebabe**: with what?

**soccerboiD:** just some help around the house. you know, the usual.

**Éclairebabe**: whatevs. bye.

Derrick sighed. Just as he was typing "Bye, ttyl Claire", the box pinged.

_Éclairebabe__ has signed off_.

-:-

"Hey, Derrick!" Massie chirped during homeroom when she noticed him walk into the classroom. "Can't wait for that party!" She grinned while he scowled.

"I thought I told Claire not to have it," Derrick mumbled.

Massie furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Wait. I thought you said Claire didn't know about it." She scratched her dark nails against her desk. "You said she wasn't going."

Derrick raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?" He ran a hand through his blonde hair. "_Claire_'s throwing some party that I told her not to have. And I haven't talked to you since yesterday!"

Massie nodded. "Exactly. You IMed me yesterday."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did!"

Derrick shook his head and put his hands on Massie's shoulders. "I'm serious. Listen to me." He cleared his throat. "I'm not going to Claire's party. _You're_ not going to Claire's party. We're gonna go see Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist. I'll pick you up at 8. Okay?"

Massie's amber eyes widened. She could feel the other girls in the classroom glaring at her. "Who does she think she is," Becca Cunningham was saying to Kori Gedman, "going out with _Claire Lyons'_ boyfriend? She is _so_ nawt Pretty Committee material."

Massie wanted to scream at Becca and Kori. It wasn't as if either of _them_ was Pretty Committee material. "Okay," she managed to choke out, smiling weakly at Derrick.

Just outside of room 231, Claire Lyons was frantically punching in her friends' cell numbers. "Cancel Lucky Strike," she grunted into her cell phone as soon as Alicia, Dylan, and Kristen picked up. "We're gonna see a movie."

**(AN: SHITBISCUITS! Claire found out! Pwahahaha. Sorry this took so long :( My little brother's bar mitzvah was yesterday, so I was prettttttty busy.**

**Thanks to Aly for helping :P And thanks to JACKIE for BLATANTLY IGNORING MY PLEAS OF HELP. Ily nh. :D**

**R&R por favor!)**


	4. Stranger

**AN: **Alright, I know I switched from first-person POV to third-person POV in the last chapter. Sorry about that! But this'll be first-person again. I swear. (:

-:-

"Massie's late." That was most likely Plovert. In fact, I could practically hear him clapping his drum sticks together.

"It's not her fault," another person argued. Male voice. That's Vader, isn't it? "She's just…busy. With homework."

"Hanging out with Derrick Harrington _hardly_ counts as homework," a girl sneered. Layne? Probably.

"It's not her fault," Vader repeated. "She's probably al—"

"Hey guys." I stuck my head through the door to Plovert's garage. Just as I suspected, everyone was already there, practicing. Layne barely looked up from her keyboard as I walked in. What's her problem? "Sorry I'm late."

"'S okay," Vader replied quickly. "I wrote a new song while you were gone. I mean, um, while you weren't here. Uh, yeah." He looked at the floor as he forced his arm out. I pulled the crumpled sheet of paper out of his hand. I skim the lines to the chorus.

_You call me a stranger, you say I'm a danger,_

_But all these thoughts are leaving you tonight._

_I'm broken, abandoned; you are an angel_

_Making all my dreams come true tonight._

"It's beautiful, Vader," I said after reading it. "How does it go?" I glanced up at him and smiled. "You know, so we can play it."

"Oh, yeah." Vader continued to stare at the ground as he sang the song. Wow. I had no idea he could sing so well. Why am I the singer if he's so good?

"Oh my god," Layne and I said at the same time. "You're so good!" Vader's face immediately flushed.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"I'm going to get something to eat, okay?" I called out, heading into the house. The fridge was stocked with Chessmen cookies. I grabbed a pack and almost ran into Layne.

"What's up?" I asked, slamming the fridge door.

"Nothing." Layne smiled as she grabbed an Orangina. "I just wanted to say hi. What's up with you and Derrick?"

"How subtle," I replied, tearing open the cookies.

"No, seriously. I wanna know. I thought I was your best friend." Layne swatted my arm. "Spill."

"There's nothing to spill." I crossed my eyes at her. "We're just friends. Hanging out. As friends."

"Oh, really?"

I sighed. "Yes, really."

"Then you wouldn't mind if Plovert and I tagged along. You know. As _friends_." She twisted a strand of thick brown hair that had come out of her ponytail.

Oh my god. Did she just admit that she and Plovert liked each other? Yay!

"Of course I wouldn't," I replied in the same tone of voice. Sarcastically unaware. "We're friends, aren't we?"

"The best."

-:-

I could see Derrick standing alone in front of the movie theater and started getting butterflies in my stomach. Why had I agreed to this? Oh, yeah, cause he's hot. But he has a girlfriend. God, stupid me. Stupid Massie Faith Block.

"Derrick!" Thank you _so_ much Layne. I was planning on being more sneaky, but no. You had to ruin it. Grr.

Derrick turned around and grinned at me, waving two tickets in the air. Then, he noticed Layne and Plovert. "Oh, hey guys."

"Hey," I finally squeaked as he and Plovert did that handshake/hug thing that guys do. I tried it once with Layne, but her chin hit my shoulder.

"Hey yourself." Derrick hugged me, which was weird, because we haven't exactly hung out before. Not counting school, I mean. "You wanna get some popcorn or something?"

"Sure," I replied before following him into the theater. I glanced over my shoulder to see Plovert and Layne buying tickets. They seemed so cute together.

"Are they together?"

"Huh?"

"Layne and Chris. Are they together?" I still stared blankly at him. "Are Plovert and Layne boyfriend and girlfriend?" he asked, sounding exasperated.

"Oh. Um…no. Actually, I dunno." I shrugged and mentally slapped myself for sounding so asinine. "How about that popcorn?"

-:-

"Red team, are they here?"

"Hullo? Red team, do you copy?"

"Uh-licia! Answer your fucking walkie-talkie!"

"Oh, right." Alicia Rivera set down her Dr. Pepper and picked up her walkie-talkie. "What's up, Claire?"

"Do _nawt_ call me Claire!" Alicia jumped away from the walkie-talkie at the sound of Claire's slightly crackly voice. "I'm gold team! Gawd."

"Right, sorry," Alicia giggled in response. "Um, yeah, they're here. Should I go talk to them?" She flipped her dark hair behind her shoulder and smiled sweetly at one of the cute theater workers who walked by. His nametag read "Josh." He looked _really_ familiar.

"NO!" Alicia snapped out of her flirt-filled trance and clutched her walkie-talkie. "Do _nawt_ talk to them, Leesh. Just watch them, okay?"

"Whatever." Alicia grabbed her Dr. Pepper bottle and followed Josh to one of the theaters. She could multi-task, couldn't she?

**AN:** Ohmygosh, hey guys! I FINALLY uploaded the fourth chapter xD The song that Vader "wrote" is actually Stranger by Secondhand Serenade. I can only write songs girls would write, not guy-ish ones. Any guesses as to who he wrote the song for? :)

Thanks to Jackie for helping me write the Layne/Massie sorta-arguement! Ily nh. Everybody go and read Infamous by her (aly's munchkin). Oh, and also read You're No Better by Aly (AlyParker407).


	5. About a Girl

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Clique, Massie, Alicia, Dylan, Kristen, Claire, Derrick, Vader, Plovert, Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist, or any of these songs. This goes for _every_ chapter.

-:-

A chorus of "Ew!"'s echoed through theater 8, but Alicia Rivera didn't mind. She fluffed her hair and rubbed her lips together, silently cursing herself for forgetting to bring lip gloss. Josh stopped at the top of the theater, scouting out for people illegally recording the movie. There weren't any, so he turned around, almost knocking into Alicia's massive chest. "Hey"—Alicia pretended to read his nametag—"Joshie."

Josh turned around and accidentally shined his flashlight in Alicia's face. He turned red and put it down. "Hey, sorry to keep you waiting. I gotta do my job first."

"'S okay." Alicia twirled a lock of her dark hair and smiled sweetly at him. Her stomach was in knots and her walkie-talkie had been going off for at least half an hour, but she didn't mind. "I'll wait." She plopped down in one of the seats and crossed one leg over the other, trying to focus on the movie. Some girl was chewing a piece of gum she'd just pulled out of the toilet. _Gross_.

Alicia's hip vibrated, her walkie-talkie spewing out cusses. Alicia took the walkie-talkie and pressed the _talk_ button.

"Claire, shush! I'm in the movies!"

"Are you by Assie and Derrick, at least?" Claire's voice showed annoyance.

"Uh...." Alicia looked for Massie and Derrick. And Plovert and Layne. "I dunno."

"Whatevs," Alicia said into her walkie-talkie. She let go of the button. "Bitch." She got up and ran out, her Fendi boots on the plush red carpet. She looked around and saw Derrick and Massie, holding a large box of popcorn and nachos, heading for theater 8. In other words, she had to hide or else she was screwed. Alicia scurried to the left side entrance and crouched down.

Fortunately, they went to right side entrance. Layne and Plovert followed. Alicia breathed a sigh of relief as she got out her walkie-talkie. "Got 'em."

"Good girl," Claire purred, as if Alicia were a trained animal. "Now follow them. Don't lose them ah-_gain_."

"Righto." Alicia shoved her walkie-talkie into her purple Morgan Satchel by Botkier and spun around to come face to face with Josh. He was grinning.

"My job's done," was the only thing he said before grabbing Alicia by the waist and kissing her.

-:-

"I officially hate you guys," I whisper-screamed as I scanned the theater for seats. "You wasted a whole hour on those _stupid_ games." I sighed and sunk into one of the handicap seats. Layne and Derrick sat on either side of her.

"You mean you actually wanted to see the movie?" Layne asked in surprise. I looked at her and sighed, but knew what she was thinking. I usually _hate _actors and actresses because they all just _happen_ to have good voices and become musicians. It's retarded.

"Never mind." I leaned back in my seat, pressing my shoulders up to my ears. Because knowing Derrick, he'd probably wrap his arm around me. "Let's just get this over with."

"Popcorn?" Derrick tilted the box towards me.

"Thanks," I grabbed a handful and dropped it into my mouth, loving the butter-y flavor.

"That's what I like about you, Massie. Claire would always say 'I hate calories' or 'I'm not hungry'. You're different, Massie," Derrick grinned. I stared blankly at him, not knowing what to say. _Thank you?_ I grabbed a few more pieces of popcorn in response.

Derrick took a sip from his Pepsi. "Want some?"

_It'll rot my teeth_. I nodded—just to be polite—and pressed my lips against the straw, faking a sip. _This is practically kissing_.

And then I realized I was kissing him. Because the moment my lips touched the straw, Derrick grabbed me by the chin and kissed my lips.

And I liked it.

-:-

"You're sure that this'll help me win her back?"

"I'm sure," Claire sighed.

"Positive?"

"Ex-_tremely_." Claire grabbed the boy's hand and led him to theater 8. "She'll be so jealous that she'll realize that she wants _you_, not _Derrick Harrington_."

The boy sighed. "Are you sure?" he repeated.

"Of course I am. Now come on, the movie's about over." Claire grabbed the boy's hands and placed them expertly on her waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "No funny business, okay?"

"Course not," was his response. The sound of clapping in the theater turned to stomping feet…

..which grew louder.

And louder.

Until Claire shouted, "Now!" and pressed her pink lips against his.

The door swung open.

Four jaws dropped.

Massie Block stood still in the door frame as she shook Derrick's arm off of her shoulders. "Vader?"

**AN: Do not hate me for that last part :) Sorry for the uber long wait! And thanks to Aly (AlyParker407) for the help :D The song this chapter is About a Girl by The Academy Is...  
**


	6. Sweet Child O' Mine

Band practice was dismal. But mostly because I couldn't find my contacts or my guitar pick. And Vader was missing. _Again_.

It was only about a week after I found him and Claire making out at the movies. After that, Claire had pretty much disowned (disboyfriended?) Derrick, leaving him for me. In return, she took Vader.

"Where do you think he is this time?" Layne asked Plovert after they pulled away from their lengthy kiss. Oh, yeah. They got together too. "Or what do you think Claire's doing to him?"

"I think she's using him as her own personal doll for shopping," Plovert replied, tugging Layne's messy ponytail. The three of us shuddered at the thought of being dragged by Claire through the mall, holding tons of shopping bags, and having to try on clothes.

It sounded like _torture_.

"I heard she's trading him for a pet monkey," Layne mused, standing up and dragging her feet to her keyboard.

"Well I heard he's trading _her_ for Jessica Alba," Plovert yawned. He got up and assumed his usual position at the drum set.

"Well, _I_ heard—"

"Will you guys shut up?!" I finally screamed. It hadn't occurred to me that I was clutching Vader's bass when I realized I'd just thrown it across the room. _Shit_. "He's coming. He's probably just late." I squeezed my eyes shut and grabbed one of the chocolate chip cookies Mrs. Plovert had left for us.

"Right," Layne agreed after a short silence. "He'll probably come soon."

Vader's brunette head popped into the garage, his chiseled face in a taut line. He looked worried. Or angry. Or both. "Hey guys," he greeted us cautiously. Nobody said anything; we simply stared. Vader took a deep breath and took a single step into the room. "Claire's here. She thought she could join."

I scoffed. Claire_ joining_ us? But she has no musical ability at all! "There's no room in the band," I stated simply, snagging another cookie. Yum. "We have enough people."

"She'll be the singer," he declared, as if I hadn't said anything. "She's in choir, you know."

"But Massie's the singer!" Layne argued. Thank god for best friends. "And she's way better than _Claire_." She glanced at me and we air high-fived.

"Just listen to her." Vader turned back to the house and grabbed Claire's hand, leading her into the garage. Was she _blind_ now or something?

"Hey guys." Claire smiled "sweetly" at us and held up an imaginary microphone. _Retard_. "I'm gonna sing Bubbly, which we'll learn to play in my band, okay?"

I could hear three distinct popping noises. My jaw dropped, as did Layne's and Plovert's. We all exchanged confused glances. _Her_ band? _Bubbly_?

Since when was Colbie Caillat _rock_?

Claire cleared her throat. "It starts in my _TOES_, something about my _NOSE_," she managed to screech out. It was _partially_ in tune. Sort of. "Wherever it goessss I always knowww. That you make me _SMILE_—"

"Vader!" I cut her off, grabbing his arm. "Let's talk. Claire, help yourself to a cookie."

Claire grunted in response. She was eying the cookies as if they were poison.

I led Vader to the corner near the garage door (as in the big one) with Layne and Plovert on my heels. "Listen," I hissed. "I will _not_ have Claire in our band!" Layne and Plovert nodded. "You _know_ how much I—we—dislike her!"

Vader shrugged, a bored look crossing his face. "She's usually a better singer." _Stupid girlfriend defender._

"No, she's not." Layne widened her eyes. "I was in choir with her, and she's the one who helped pass out papers. Not a singer. Because she sucks."

"Take that back," Vader snapped. "She's a great singer and I'll prove it!" He turned around to get Claire to sing again, but she was gone.

"Come on, Vader, we need to work on the music for the Thanksgiving Bash at the Westchester Country Club." I grabbed a binder off one of the shelves and started thumbing through the pages. "We've decided to do Sweet Child o' Mine, Back in Black, Daytripper—"

"Whatever." Vader started heading for the main door. "I quit."

"Y-y-you what?" Plovert stuttered.

"I _said_"—Vader threw his hands up—"I. Quit. The. Band." Plovert and Layne stood speechless in disbelief. I walked up to Vader and grabbed his shoulders.

"You _can't _quit," I gasped, on the verge of tears. "You helped _make_ this band. You…you can't!"

"Watch me," Vader replied, staring icily into my amber eyes. He turned on his heel and walked out.

On _us_.

His _band_.

**AN: **Sorry ((again)) for the long wait for an update!! **R&R** please :)


	7. Zero

When Vader left, Layne and I set out on two missions: Mission FAR: Find a Replacement; and Mission VADER: Vader Admits Defeat, Eventually Rejoining. She made posters about our band while I followed Vader around, begging him to rejoin.

To which he started calling me an obsessive stalker.

Stalker? _Me_? Pshhh, of course not!

But, seriously! The Battle of the Bands was on Christmas, and Vader was the only one who knew the songs we were gonna play!

Anyway, after a week of following him, I stopped. Because it was unlikely that he'd join. Just as he'd said, he'd created his own band with _CLAIRE_ (creepy-loser-assed-imbecile-reeks-excessively). Oh, and a few of the musicians in our school who still aren't that great—no offense to them, of course. Their names are Coral "Strawberry" McAdams and Kori Gedman.

The band's called Darth Vader and the Ladies, by the way.

Sad, right?

But I just know he wants to join us again. I mean we've written a total of 1 song in the time he's left us.

Which is about a month.

We're screwed.

-:-

_Day One_

"Massie, pass me the kettle corn," Layne grumbled. I handed her the bag of Pirate's Booty. I seriously have no idea why she calls it kettle corn when it's obviously not. I mean, it's _cheese_. But I never correct her.

The last time I did—in the seventh grade—she gave me a broken arm.

"Is anyone even coming?" Plovert asked, flicking a leaf he found on the ground. I shrugged and buried myself farther into my Aeropostale hoodie.

"Probably not," I replied in the same gloomy tone. "Who'd want to leave home in the middle of December?"

"But it's only for a few min—"

"It's _freezing_, Layne," Plovert and I snapped, cutting Layne off. Layne, whose birthday was in December, loved the cold. Plovert and I were summer babies, hence our hatred of cold and snow.

By the time our cell phone clocks hit 4 PM, we packed up our things and went home.

Nobody showed up.

-:-

_Day Two_

"Hi, I'm Cam," came a soft voice. Layne, Plovert, and I raised our heads simultaneously from where we were glancing at our toes. Realization hit me. That was Cam Fisher, Plovert and Derrick's friend from soccer.

"Oh, hey!" I chirped, suddenly wanting to take back my sunny demeanor. I wasn't usually _that_ bubbly, was I? "Hey," I repeated, forcing it out in a calmer, darker voice. Layne gave a stout wave.

"So you play bass?" Plovert asked Cam, always one to cut to the chase. Cam nodded and held up his bass case (haha, rhyme!).

"Can you play the bass part for Crazy Train?" I finally managed to ask in a serious voice. Cam nodded and started playing. I nodded my head to the beat, playing air guitar for the guitar part. 2, 2, 4 (2nd string), 2 (1st string), 5 (2nd string), 2 (1st string), 4 (2nd string), 2 (1st string)…

Layne stopped him in the middle of the song. "That's really good," she nodded. I knew she was fighting to hold back from saying what we were all thinking. He was really good, but he was no Vader.

"Welcome to the band," I told him after getting the obligatory nods from Layne and Plovert. I glanced at Layne as Plovert gave Cam a sheet with our names, IM screen names, and the Battle of the Bands date. Layne closed her eyes and looked at the floor.

Plan FAR may have worked out, but we still wanted Vader back.

-:-

"Massie!" Brendon cried, pushing my door open—didn't I lock that?—and clonking into my room. My sanctuary. His Vans were muddy, leaving brown smudges in my white carpet. _Great_. "Mom says that she got us tickets to see your favorite band in concert tonight!" Blue icing coated his left cheek, and I knew that he'd just eaten the last cupcake in the fridge. _That's what you get for leaving snacks where a 10-year-old can find them_.

"Panic at the Disco?" I asked, suddenly brightening. If anything could cure my misery, it would be Brendon Urie's vocal chords.

_Why did Brendon get to be named after a God?_ I thought, wanting to flick my brother's brunette head.

"No, silly," he replied, rolling his eyes in a way not unlike Claire Lyons usually did. "Smashing Pumpkins. Mom got the tickets for you, Vader, and her."

"Vader's not going," I muttered without thinking.

"Yay!" Brendon shouted, leaving the room. "I can go, too!"

_Stupid, selfish brother_.

-:-

"Mom?" I croaked in the middle of the Smashing Pumpkins's performance of Zero, my favorite song by them. "I don't feel so good."

_My reflection, dirty mirror_

My mother lay her hand over my forehead. "Just a few more songs, okay?"

_There's no connection to myself_

"Sure," I shrugged. I was staring at my brother, who was _headbanging_, of all things.

Really! My_ brother_!

_I'm your lover, I'm your zero_

For some strange reason, Billy Corgan's bald head really reminded me of Vader's. Maybe it was because despite what everyone thought, they could both sing. Or maybe it was just the fact that they both had to with the Smashing Pumpkins. After all, Smashing Pumpkins was Vader's favorite band.

_I'm the face in your dreams of glass_

"I love this song!" Brendon shouted out.

"You don't even know what _band_ this is," I responded smarmily.

Brendon stuck his tongue out at me.

_For when we're really gonna need'em_

I leaned back in my seat, sipping my Sprite casually. Why was I feeling so sick anyways? All I'd eaten was a hamburger. And I usually can eat fifty of those like it's nothing. Was something wrong with me?

_Throw out your cares and fly_

Then, it hit me. Just like that one time during soccer practice in second grade when Vader kicked the ball in my face. It hit me. Just like that.

I cared too much about what Vader thought. Whenever he did something, I had to be the first to know. When I found him kissing Claire, my crush on Derrick stopped cold. When he quit the band, I felt like my life was over.

There was only one reason for this. My stomach dropped down to my toes, and I fought the sudden urge to lie on the sticky floor and cry.

I was in love with Vader. And there was no way ever that he'd love me back.

_Wanna go for a ride?_

**AN: **Sorry this took so long! My parents blocked , so let's give a round of applause to Jackie for posting this for me! Yay!

My inspiration for this chapter came from Wednesday night when I went to a Smashing Pumpkins concert. I'd eaten a ton of egg rolls really quickly on the trip, and I wasn't feeling good. At all. As I sat through Zero (which _is _one of my favorite songs by them), I realized that I had a huge crush on this guy who was my sort of ex-friend, and therefore did not talk to me anymore.

Yeah.


	8. I Caught Myself

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the Clique. I don't own Smashing Pumpkins. I don't own Happy Bunny. I don't own Microsoft Word, but I'm typing on it at the moment. The only thing I own is this shamefully bad story that I hardly ever update and the song Massie is writing. Said song shall come up at end of story, yo :)

-:-

_Claire and Vader sitting in a tree…_

I held a faded black Panic at the Disco t-shirt to my chest, looking at myself in the mirror. Thanks to Vader's—no, scratch that. It wasn't his fault—and Claire's stupid, stupid band, we hadn't been able to sign up for Battle of the Bands in time.

_Kay aye ess ess aye en gee…_

There had only been one band position left, and really, the choice was obvious: band-plus-actress or band-plus-me? Anyone with enough sense would choose the perfect, blonde actress. Even if she stood out from the other bands with her pink legging-clad ass.

_First comes love, then comes marriage_…

"Massie, hurry up!" Layne stuck her head through my bedroom door. The faded green chunk of hair tucked behind her ear was all that was left of the streak she'd gotten last year. "We're gonna sneak over to Vader's house to check out the 'competition.'" She snickered, obviously thinking of all the things she, Cam, and Plovert would do to Vader's band.

Or what appeared to be a band. They'd lasted about halfway through their song before being booed off-stage for playing Barbie Girl.

I actually started the booing, come to think of it.

"Massie!" Layne grabbed the pair of skinny jeans sitting on my bed and chucked them at my face. "Move your ass!"

"You guys go on ahead," I mumbled, my voice emotionless. "I'm kinda busy here." I strode over to my desk, tripping over my It's Happy Bunny™ pajama pants and crash-landing in front of my black Fender Stratocaster.

Layne rolled her eyes and walked out of my room, slamming my door shut on the way out. The room still smelled faintly of tacos from her entry, which was oddly comforting.

I lay in front of my guitar for about 4 minutes, letting my chin sink into the plush carpeting that I was now thankful for having. _If Vader can write a song_, I thought to myself, _then I can, too. Right?_

I stood up slowly, looking across the street to see Layne and Plovert sprinting toward Vader's house. A lost-looking Cam trailed behind them. I snickered, kicking my chair out, sitting down, and booting up my MacBook.

"What to write, what to write." I grabbed a pencil out of the cup on my desk filled with writing utensils. Numerous bite-marks lined the wooden area, so I started chewing the eraser instead.

I brought up Microsoft Word, dropped the pencil, and lowered my hands to the keyboard. Weirdly enough, the lyrics just, well, flowed.

-:-

"Vadie-poo, can we puh-lease play something by Britney Spears?" Claire begged, batting her ridiculously mascaraed eyelashes at Vader. "She's getting wuh-ay better, and I want one of her songs to be on my demo."

Vader furrowed his eyebrows. He did _not_ want to be here. He didn't know why he'd joined this _stupid_ band. If Claire hadn't done her freaky puppy-dog pout thing, he would've still been in—

Wait. Demo?

"What are you talking about?" Now Vader was really confused. Demos were for good singers, like Massie.

No offense to Claire of course.

Claire squeezed her eyes shut and practically exhaled all the air out of her body. Except for the hot air in her head, of course. "My _demo_, sweetie." Vader grimaced—he hated all those stupid names she called him. "Since I'm an actress, I'm thinking of taking the Vanessa Hudgens route and becoming a singer, too."

Vader opened his mouth to respond when the garage door swung open to show Plovert, Layne, and that Cam kid they'd replaced him with posing like superheroes. Well, Plovert and Layne were, at least. Cam was just…standing.

"Ehmagawd, he's cute," Claire blurted, practically drooling at the sight of Cam in all his glory. Although Cam looked pretty ashamed of kicking the door open. Claire didn't even hesitate as she walked over to him, laying her hand on Cam's shoulder and pursing her lips at him. She was pretty in the Extreme Makeover way.

Vader sighed. Massie was way prettier in the natural way. But she was probably with that Derrick guy still. Or probably Cam. Either way, he was with Claire, even if it was for a stupid reason.

_Note to self: Do not look Claire in the eyes anymore._

"Do you guys suck _so_ much that you can't even play your music in front of us?" Plovert asked as Layne cackled. Cam looked embarrassed as he inched away from Claire.

"No," Strawberry and Kori snapped in unison, Strawberry's face as pink as her hair. "At least we got into Battle of the Bands."

Layne feigned surprise. "Oh, really now? And how was your rendition of Barbie Girl?" She and Plovert began to screech the song together as Strawberry and Kori rushed over to the two, fists locked and ready to attack.

"Guys, stop," Cam and Vader muttered at the same time. They looked at one another wordlessly, then back at the almost fight.

Claire giggled high-pitchedly, mumbling something about needing to call Alicia before running out of the garage, down the hall, and toward Vader's room. She held down speed-dial number 5.

After two rings, someone picked up on the other line. "Hello?" Claire whispered into her iPhone. "This is Claire Lyons."

"Hello, Ms. Lyons," a feminine voice said on the other line. "Let me connect you to Mr. Hurley." Claire waited a few minutes, taking in Vader's messy room. Smashing Pumpkins posters lined the walls; a pile of dirty socks were in one corner. Claire wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"This is Kemp Hurley," a gruff voiced came out of Claire's phone. "This is Claire Lyons, I presume?" Mr. Hurley, the head honcho of Hurl-It-Up Records, sounded impatient. "I don't have all day, Claire. Where's the song?"

"It's coming," Claire said in a rushed voice. "I'm just...adding in the last lyrics." That was when Claire noticed Vader's iMac was on. A word document was up; it was titled _Stranger_. Claire the first few lyrics, amazed at how good it was.

", if you don't send me that song by tomorrow, I'll drop your con—"

"No need to worry sir." Claire clicked on Safari, bringing up the Yahoo! home screen. "I've got it all under control." She pressed _end_ on her iPhone, attached Vader's song document to an email, clicked send...

Then deleted the real document from Vader's computer. "Thanks for the song, sweetie," she whispered half to herself and half to an invisible Vader, grinning wickedly and picturing all the cash she'd make with _her_ song.


	9. Absolutely

**AN: **Sorry for being a bad author D: I need to do my homework, but the song Absolutely by Nine Days seriously reminded me of Vader and Massie. Don't worry, they won't "hate" each other for long. It's hurting me, too.

Oh, and I make a cameo :D Look for me in here! Haha!

And the first one to understand what Vader means at the end gets a prize from me! *Presents virtual cookie*

And I can't go on writing in first person. It's in third, so ha!

* * *

_This is the story of a girl, who cried a river and drowned the whole world!_

Massie had mastered the ability to listen to her iPod during class. And not just in boring Pre-Calculus and US History, but in Physical Education, too. All she had to do was pull her usual Westchester High School hoodie over her disgusting P.E. uniform, and voila! A perfect way to hide her iPod.

Now, if Coach Hector could just let them sit on the bleachers all day. Or even just walk the perimeter of the field. Anything but volleyball.

_Please, dear God_, Massie prayed inwardly. _Anything but the ultimate torture of volleyball. I'll be good from now on! Studious, respectable, courteous to others…_

But it seemed as though God was of being God to some other kid praying, leaving Massie no choice but to scrunch up behind Layne and Kristen Gregory, the two most excitable gym people in the freaking world.

Coach Hector blew his long silver whistle. _PURRRRRP!_ "Everyone up!" he shouted, wiping his sweaty forehead. Really now, what kind of Physical Education teacher worked up a sweat during the beginning of his first period in an indoor gym? "We're playing volleyball, your favorite!"

The majority of the class cheered, with Massie and two other people being the only groaners. Sasha Kim—she hated all sports in general—and…

Massie could tell that voice anywhere. It was Vader. She almost smiled, but forced herself not too. Still, it was good to know that all of Claire's brainwashing hadn't changed him into a jock.

He was just a moron. Not that much better, but still.

"Alright, now who wants to be the team captains?" Layne's and Kristen's hands immediately shot up. Of course. Who else had that much pep at 8 AM?

The two team captains walked toward Coach Hector before turning around to choose their teams. "I pick…" Layne tapped her chin, showing off her lime green fingernails. "Massie!"

As if controlled by Claire Lyons—devil spawn—herself, the whole class turned to look at Massie. Massie self-consciously slid off the step she had been sitting on, then walked over to join Layne. "Thanks a lot," she muttered as Kristen chose a very jittery-looking Dylan Marvil.

"You'll thank me later," Layne said through her smile. "I choose Chris!"

Well wasn't _that_ a surprise.

"Alicia!" Kristen, Claire, and Dylan's Spanish best friend walked up to join them.

"Kemp!" Notorious pervert Kemp Hurley immediately joined Layne's crew.

"Josh!" Alicia's boyfriend joined Kristen.

"Derrick!" This, surprisingly, was said by Layne. Didn't she hate him? Or was that just Vader?

"Sophie!" Kristen.

"Fiedler!" Layne.

"Ali!" Kristen.

"Cam!" Layne.

"Ronnie!" Kristen.

"Tessa!" Layne.

The only two people left on the bleachers were Vader and Sasha. Massie cringed. Back when she and Vader were still friends, he would've been chosen first, no doubt. But times had most definitely changed.

"I call Vader!" Kristen shouted out before Layne could lay her claim. Layne scowled—neither Sasha nor Vader liked to play sports, but at least Vader could actually play. He could play better than Massie, at least.

"Come on, Sasha," Layne sighed. There went their chance of winning. "We're the Hydro-Llamas and we're here to say…"

"We will rock you any day," Massie deadpanned. Chris let out a loud, "Whoop!" while their other teammates sighed. They were gonna lose. No contest.

"Hey, Massie," Derrick called out. Massie lifted her head, shoving her iPod into her pocket. The last time she'd talked to Derrick was at Cam's Christmas party, when Derrick had called her _Mandy_ instead.

Thus ended their ever-blossoming friendship.

"Yes, Dave?" Massie got into position, lining herself up next to Layne, who had just tossed the ball over the net. Vader caught it on the other side; he was going to be the starting server.

Derrick followed Massie over, not even bothering to get into position. Couldn't he just go back to leaving her alone like he had for the past 3 months?

Massie took a deep, cleansing breath, closing her eyes. He'd be gone in 3...2...1...

"It's Derrick," he corrected. Massie could feel his hot breath on her cheek and sighed. He was still there. Goddamit. "I was wondering if you'd maybe like to go to—"

Just as he was about to say _what_ he wanted to do, the volleyball Layne had just tossed to Vader flew over, hitting Derrick on the nose and causing him to collapse onto the floor. Claire's friends—she was the only Pretty Committee member not there, woohoo!—all screamed; they couldn't _stand_ the sight of blood. Everyone gathered around Derrick except for Massie, who could care less about Derrick Harrington, and Vader, who was still in serving position on the other side.

"What did you do?" Massie shrieked. Sure, she didn't like Derrick all that much (any more), but he was freaking bleeding!

Vader shrugged. "He was in the way."

_ And while she looked so sad in photographs, I absolutely love he when she smiles!_


	10. You Belong With Me

**AN: **Sorry AGAIN for not posting in a while :] I've been doing stuff. Haha. Oh, and this chapter's gonna be cute. Just throwing it out there.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own _You Belong With Me_ by Taylor Swift. Just borrowing it for story purposes.

Well, it may not be cute, but it'll involve something that'll throw you guys off and squeal your freaking heads off. Just saying. Again.

Oh, and I can't write anything song-ish in Massie's point of view. The song I wanted her to write is now just gonna be _You Belong With Me_ by Taylor Swift (pretend she never wrote it just for this, though? Haha). Although I _will_ write a different song for the last chapter. Probably a song I already wrote.

* * *

Vader stood in front of his bathroom mirror at 7:30 AM as he prepared for school. His dark brown hair was sticking up in unwanted spots, but he didn't care. His almost-hazel-but-more-brown eyes looked miserable, and the dark circles under his eyes told him to go back to sleep.

But he couldn't sleep. Because every time he did, he saw _her_.

He knew not to dream of her. He knew that if he did, he'd just grow more and more fed-up with how his life had turned out. But most importantly, he knew that if he just _thought_ of her, Claire—that dumb blonde he'd somehow ended up with—would find out. She was scary that way, knowing everything about anyone and being freakishly controlling to top it off.

Vader glanced at the sticky note on the mirror. "Wear jeans and a blue collared shirt, sweetie :)" was written on it in purple ink.

_Purple_. Her color. _Massie_'s color.

He wanted to talk to her—Massie, not Claire. He wanted to ask her how she was, how the band was, and, most importantly, how she felt about him.

_Illegal_, he thought to himself, shaking out his hair and running his hands through it to coax the front into behaving. _You're with Claire, remember?_

Fuck Claire.

All he wanted to do was hold Massie and kiss her in a way that he'd never be able to.

_Illegal._

_Illegal!_

_ILLEGAL!_

_I-L-L-E-G-A—fuck it._

-:-

"He broke up with me!" Layne cried out as she pushed my bedroom door open. I hadn't actually heard the bell ring, and I could've sworn that I was the only one home.

"How did you—" I stopped myself when I saw my mom's "secret" house key—normally it was hidden behind the loose brick on the porch—dangling from Layne's index finger. So it _wasn't_ a secret. Better not tell mom. "Wait, huh?"

"Plovert," Layne's lower lip quivered as she said it, "broke up with me. He said he missed the days of our friendship, or some other crappy excuse, but what he really meant was that he likes _Kristen Gregory_, that athletic _slut_, _better_ than _me_!" She stared at the ground to hide her tears from me, something she'd never been too good at.

I wrapped my arm around Layne protectively. "He was a band geek," I told her in consolation. Well, we were _all _band geeks, but that was the only thing that seemed to fit Plovert. "You'll find someone better. Someone who plays a sport instead of the drums."

Layne made a face, but nodded anyway.

"And who knows?" I glanced upward, admiring the slope on the ceiling that was littered with those plastic glow-in-the-dark stars. "Maybe now we'll get more practice in now that you and Chris won't be mak—" I slapped my hand to my mouth. Oops.

"We weren't making out all the time!" Layne argued as she reached around me to grab a pillow, the tearful pout replaced with a smug grin. "You liar!"

"I'm not a liar!" I laughed, ducking as Layne attempted to whack me with a pillow. I reached my arm back to grab a pillow, my sword and shield in Layne's war.

One, two, three…fight!

-:-

The Lyons family held a party in honor of their only daughter, Claire (her birthday was May 16th), and the blooming flowers each spring. It was always said to be the biggest party of the year, as every teenager in the city was invited, _even_ Massie, Layne, Cam, and Plovert.

Vader stood awkwardly near the bar, sipping his Ginger Ale as if it were champagne and watching for his friends'—well, _ex_-friends'—arrival. He'd narrowly managed to escape Claire's clutches for the first time ever; she was in the bathroom, changing her outfit for the third time of the night.

It was annoying how girly and imperfect for him he was.

And how perfect Massie was for him.

_Don't think about her_, Vader instructed himself. _Think of other things. Disturbed. Smashing Pumpkins. Oreos. Bunnies._

The bartender winked at Vader as he wiped down a wine glass. Vader decided to take it as a good sign rather than a flirtatious gesture, as Massie and the rest of the Crack Dominoes walked in just at that moment.

Massie had her guitar case strapped to her back and an amp in her arms. That Cam kid was carrying a bass in his left arm with yet another amp being dragged slowly behind him. Layne and Plovert came a few moments later, carrying a mic stand and keyboard as they followed the guitarists to the stage.

Plovert's drum set was already set up onstage. Vader felt ready to slap himself for not noticing it at first. And maybe even slap Claire for what she did three seconds later.

Claire strutted toward the stage, giving her "audience" a giggly wave and blowing a few kisses. She grabbed the mic off the stand, tapping it with her long index finger. Nothing happened.

"What a retard," some senior commented. It was obvious that the microphone was the _last _thing to be plugged in.

Claire scowled at Massie, who threw up her arms in protest. Vader felt a grin tug across his face. He'd missed Massie and her, "It's not my fault!" philosophy.

As soon as the mic was finally plugged in, Claire cleared her throat and pressed her lips against it. "Hi, everyone! Welcome to my party!" she said, although from the way she used the microphone as lip gloss, it sounded more like, "Haughghgh! Weoloooyyyy!"

Vader began to snicker, along with the rest of the crowd. He could feel Alicia, Claire's supposed best friend, and her boyfriend Josh Hotz creep up next to him. He nodded at the two, both of whom smiled in return.

"You heard of these guys?" Josh asked excitedly. He was obviously new to these parties. "I went to one of their gigs, back before they replaced that one bass player."

Alicia stifled a giggle. Vader scratched his neck awkwardly. "Yeah, I've heard of them."

-:-

After Claire finished up her "speech" (she was basically telling everyone how wonderful she was for getting signed to Hurl-It-Up Records—the worst record company, in my opinion), she gave me her famous "I get whatever I want" smirk and stormed away.

I shook my head, trying to clear my brain of anything Vader related. Really, he was the only reason I was even here. In a dress, no less. One that Layne said claimed looked "freaking hot, oh my god" on me.

"Uh, hey," I squeaked into the mic. Suddenly, it was hard to say anything without Vader being to my left as usual. "I'm Massie Block, and we're the Crack Dominoes."

Some random boy let out a massive "whoop!" while the rest of the crowd either clapped or whistled. Some of the adults made faces, but I didn't care. I didn't know them, anyway. And if I did, they were about to be blown away.

"We don't normally play songs like this," I said, feeling my face grow red. "But I wrote this song for a boy who used to be my friend and isn't really anymore but…uh…yeah."

I turned to Layne, Cam, and Plovert, nodding once to tell them to begin. We all began playing at the same time while I leaned toward the mic.

"_You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset. She's going off about something that you said. 'Cause she doesn't get your humor like I do._"

It was a little weird how easy it was to write this song. But it just…worked. I don't know. I'd never written a song before, but when I did, I felt totally relieved.

"_I'm in my room, it's a typical Tuesday night. I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like. And she'll never know your story like I do."_

And if there was one easy way to pour your heart out to guy, it was definitely through a song. Remember that now, kiddies.

"_But she wears short skirts; I wear T-shirts. She's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers, dreaming about the day when you wake up and find that what you're looking for has been here the whole time_."

The audience started to rumble as tons of teenagers began to bob their heads to the beat. But one person stayed perfectly still.

Vader.

"_If you could see that I'm the one who understands you, been here all along, so why can't you see you belong with me? You belong with me._"


	11. How You Love Me Now

**AN: **So, I lied. The cute part will be in this chapter instead of in the last one. Well, either this or the next. Or whatever. Just as long as I write it, right? Haha.

This has been sitting in my documents listing since May. Sorry for not posting it before. I had to give it the final _zing!_

* * *

Claire frowned at the guests who began to trickle out as soon as the Crack Dominoes (more like Crap Dominoes, though—what was with their lack of pop music? _Hello_) took their descent from the stage. "Um, attention, everyone!" she shouted as if her life depended on it.

Because it did. _Nobody_ walked out on Claire Stacey Lyons.

"I just want to say that it's been an honor having you all here for _me_, and the evening's next line of entertainment is yet to come." She smiled at the crowd of people, pleading for them to stay.

Those who had started for the door reluctantly turned back around. Claire felt her heart beat return to normal, but decided to think nothing of it.

After all, it wasn't as if she _begged_ for them to return, right? They just _wanted_ to stay. Because she was just that great. _Right_?

Smoothing down her dress, Claire made her way to the hallway that linked the Lyons family ballroom to the main house. In her rush, she forgot to tell Dylan and Kristen to get everyone to dance, Alicia to keep an eye on Vader, and Vader to stay put.

It didn't matter anyway. Once she was through, the whole world would be in love with her again.

-:-

"Massie, that song was incredible," Maya Walters gushed as she gave me a one-armed hug. Maya and I weren't necessarily friends, but hugs were always good. "Did you have anyone in mind while singing it?" Maya raised her dark eyebrows as if to push Massie to give her the scoop.

I gave Maya a secretive grin. "Maybe." Everyone knew of Maya's direct relation to Barbara Walters, making her one of Westchester County's top gossips. Next to the surprisingly quick-witted Alicia Rivera, of course. No way was I gonna tell her.

"Massie!" Layne linked her arm with mine as she pulled me away from Maya. "There's someone who wants to talk to you," she added in a sing-song voice. I giggled, only partially annoyed by Layne's attempt to hook me up with yet another guy.

Even Layne was far from being filled in on my Vader crush, and that was saying something.

"That's fine, really." I took a step away from Layne, cocking my head towards the bar. "I'm gonna get myself a root beer. Do you want to come with?"

But Layne was already gone, probably off to put away all of our instruments. I let out a relieved sigh, thankful that now I'd have time alone for once.

The smiling bartender straightened his yellow collared shirt before pulling out an empty glass. "What can I get for you?" He gestured toward the rows of a soda cans and less-than-full wine bottles. No wonder the parents were in such great moods; they were all getting drunk.

"Um, I'll just get a root beer, thanks."

He quickly poured the soda, smiling all the while. _He must really like his job_, I thought to myself as I grabbed the colder-than-room-temperature glass, turning around slowly so I wouldn't spill the soda all over my dress.

Although that would give me a good reason to change into the jeans and t-shirt I'd kept hidden in my guitar case. Spilling suddenly seemed like a good idea.

Or not. Because as I turned around, I did end up spilling the soda. On someone else's suit.

"Shit—I mean, shoot. I mean sorry," I said without looking at the guy's face. _I am so screwed_, I thought, shaking. _That suit's probably, like, three thousand times my allowance_.

"It's okay," expensive suit-guy replied calmly. His voice was weirdly familiar. "I was never really the suit-wearing type. Must be because of my dad," he joked. "You know, since he's a lawyer and all."

_Oh god_.

I felt my pits begin to rebel against my Vanilla Chai Secret deodorant and a scarlet blush slide across my face. It was Vader. Vader was standing in front of me. I felt like screaming, but instead kept my mouth shut and grimaced at him.

You know, so he wouldn't be able to tell that I liked him. Because he obviously didn't like me. Guys with girlfriends liked their girlfriends, not other girls (except maybe Derrick Harrington, but he'd always struck me as a guy with a few screws loose). And Vader was a good guy. A great guy, even.

A great guy who looked positively delicious in a suit.

"You can stop staring now." Vader was grinning adorably, what with his sparkling brown eyes with the hazel speckles popping out and slightly crooked grin with the hitched up left corner. "Or keep staring. I'll strike a pose."

I don't know what came over me. I smacked him on the arm. Hard.

"God, Mass," he said with a strange mix between a smile and a scowl. I felt myself start to grin; he hadn't called me that in a while. It'd been strictly Massie for a couple of weeks (or was it months?) now. "What was that for?"

"For being a narcissistic pig," I snapped jokily, crossing my arms. "Come on, we better get you cleaned up." I grabbed his hand – not in the adorable, couple-y way, sadly – and tugged him towards the bathroom in search of towels and cleaning supplies.

But Vader shook his head, and began leading _me_ towards the door. "I can just take my jacket off and leave it outside to dry," he contradicted, pulling my arm a little harder.

I had no choice but to follow him.

-:-

Claire felt her eye begin to twitch as she saw Vader and Massie walk outside together, holding hands and talking. He was _not_ allowed to talk to her! She was an enemy! _Hello_.

She race ahead of the two servers who were carrying her triple-layer yellow birthday cake and seventeen candles onto the stage, stumbling on her heel not once, but twice. She took the microphone (again) and tapped it with her index finger as she caught her breath.

"Before I blow out my candles," she began breathlessly, "I'd like to tell everyone the best news ever!"

Layne Abeley's snickered from the back of the room. She couldn't help it. Claire's idiotic prep-talk was hilariously annoying. Claire gave her the stink eye before continuing.

"I'm pleased to announce that I have recently been signed to Hurl-It-Up Records, and that my first single, _Stranger_, will be released in a week!" Claire beamed as the Pretty Committee applauded her, along with the rest of the room. "Because you are all _so_ dear to moi, I will honor you all with the chorus to my song, which was written by me, and no one else!"

"Wow, that's so not suspicious-sounding at all," Layne deadpanned to Cam and Plovert. The two boys concealed their laughter behind their soda cans.

Claire cleared her throat loudly, before launching headfirst into her song. "_You, you call me a stranger boy. You, you say I'm a danger, boy._ Dangerous! _But all these thought's, they're leaving you-ooh toni-ight. _Bay-beh."

One by one, the rock-loving adults and teenagers covered their ears, while the _other_, polite people nodded their heads carelessly to the tuneless beat of the song. Cam and Plovert shared a look, then went back to their conversation on the latest Harry Potter movie.

Only Layne seemed to be in shock.

She remembered those lyrics. Or what they originally were, at any least.

"Yeah, definitely not suspicious sounding at all," Layne muttered to herself as she narrowed her eyes. Claire Lyons may have gotten away with everything in the past – pulling Massie's hair in kindergarten, kissing Plovert in elementary school, stealing their bassist – but she wasn't gonna get away with this.

Not if Layne could help it.

-:-

"I had no idea these shirts could soak up root beer so fast," I laughed as I dabbed Vader's shirt with a wine-stained paper CL napkin. "I'm really sorry."

"Don't be." Vader tried to laugh while staying completely still. It _was_ a bit awkward having someone poke your chest with a napkin, come to think of it.

Thank god _he_ wasn't the one who had spilled root beer on _me_.

"Think you got all the spots?" Vader asked impatiently. Scratch that. He was being patient, but he still sounded like he was desperate to do something else. But who wouldn't be, after waiting around for some girl to clean your shirt.

"Yeah," I mumbled. Maybe he was just trying to get rid of me.

"You missed a spot," he noted, grabbing my wrist gently to show me wear. I looked at his shirt. It was pretty much all clear (AKA soaked in club soda). What was he talking about?

I looked up at him questioningly. He looked down til his eyes met mine. Brownish hazel meets amber. It was like a warm meeting of the chocoholics. Or maybe it was the way he looked at me, the way I'd always wanted him to look at me deep down.

Because one second he had this faraway, sad look in his eyes, and the next, his lips were pressed to mine. And he was kissing me. And I wasn't sure what to do, because:

A) He had a girlfriend, and

B) We weren't even supposed to be on good terms.

And even though I had wanted this for the longest time, for him to hold me (even if it was just my wrist) and to kiss me like he was going off to fight in the war and wouldn't be home for a long time, part of me knew it was wrong.

Which was why I pulled my wrist out of his grip and ran.


End file.
